Caught in the Cute Trap-Ahmed vs. Maid Liza!

I. The Great Escape Plan—Or So He Thought

Ahmed, a self-proclaimed strategic genius, had meticulously crafted his escape route down to the finest detail. It was simple: wait until Clayra was distracted, sneak away, and sprint toward freedom like a gazelle fleeing from lions. Or at least, that's what he imagined himself doing.

But there was one tiny problem—or rather, a big problem: Clayra's personal maid, Liza.

Liza stood quietly in the corner, her silver hair glinting under the soft light of the chandelier. Dressed in the classic maid outfit, she seemed harmless enough. To anyone else, perhaps. But Ahmed knew better. Having watched countless anime series, he recognized the "deadly maid" archetype when he saw it. And oh boy, did Liza fit the bill perfectly.

As Ahmed crept closer to the door, his heart pounding with anticipation, Liza remained motionless, almost statuesque. For a brief moment, Ahmed allowed himself to believe he might actually succeed. Then, just as he reached for the doorknob—

WHOOSH!

A gust of wind swept past him so fast it made his ears ring. Before he could even register what was happening, his world flipped upside-down. Literally.

"Huh?" Ahmed blinked, disoriented. His vision swam as he struggled to comprehend the situation. That's when he realized—he wasn't standing anymore. In fact, he wasn't even upright.

"I... I'm upside down?" Ahmed gasped, his voice trembling with disbelief. His feet dangled high above his head, and his dignity? Well, let's just say it had taken an express elevator straight to the basement.

Liza held him by the ankle, her grip firm and unyielding, as if she were dangling a rag doll instead of a grown man—or at least, what used to be a grown man. Her expression remained utterly serene, betraying none of the effort required to perform such a feat.

"Put me down, you evil maid!" Ahmed shouted, flailing wildly in the air. "You villain! You demon in an apron! I demand my rights!"

Liza tilted her head slightly, her usually stoic face cracking into something resembling curiosity. "Cute," she remarked flatly.

"CUTE?!" Ahmed's soul nearly left his body. His voice cracked as he screamed, "I'M NOT CUTE! I'M A GROWN MAN—WELL, I WAS!"

[SYSTEM ALERT: HOST HAS EARNED 500 POINTS FOR BEING A STRUGGLING, ADORABLE FOOL.]

"YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS, AREN'T YOU, SYSTEM?!" Ahmed roared, directing his fury at the omnipresent voice in his mind.

[SYSTEM ALERT: YES.]

"I KNEW IT! YOU TRAITOR!" Ahmed spat, his rage boiling over. Yet deep down, a small part of him wondered why the System always found ways to turn his suffering into rewards.

Despite his protests, Liza showed no signs of releasing him. If anything, her grip tightened ever so slightly, making Ahmed feel like a fish caught on a line. He wriggled and twisted, but it was futile. She might as well have been holding him with steel chains.

"Why does this keep happening to me?" Ahmed muttered under his breath, his voice muffled by embarrassment. "Why can't I ever catch a break?"

The answer came swiftly—and predictably—from the System.

[SYSTEM ALERT: BECAUSE YOUR LIFE IS A COMEDY OF ERRORS AND I AM THE DIRECTOR.]

Ahmed groaned, burying his face (or rather, the top of his head) in humiliation. "Of course. Why wouldn't you make things worse?"

II. Clayra's "Momma Mode" Activates

Just as Ahmed thought his predicament couldn't get any worse, Clayra entered the room. Her golden hair shimmered in the light, and her crimson eyes sparkled with mischief. She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway with a victorious smirk plastered across her face.

"Oh, my dear, dear Ahmed," she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Did you really think you could fool me?"

Ahmed froze mid-flail, his movements halting abruptly. "Clayra... how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see your pathetic attempt at escaping," Clayra replied, her tone dripping with mock disappointment. "Honestly, Ahmed, I expected more from my clever little prince."

"I'M NOT YOUR PRINCE!" Ahmed yelled, his cheeks flushing red—not out of anger this time, but because blood was rushing to his head thanks to Liza's inversion technique. "AND STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

Clayra ignored him, stepping closer with each word. "You know, Ahmed, I didn't become a mother yesterday. I've spent years perfecting the art of spotting troublemakers. And trust me, you're Exhibit A."

"EXHIBIT A?! What does that even mean?!" Ahmed sputtered, his indignation growing. "You decided to adopt me out of nowhere! This isn't real parenting—it's kidnapping!"

Clayra raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Kidnapping? Oh, Ahmed, you wound me. I simply couldn't resist adopting such a charming little dumpling."

Ahmed's entire being froze. "Dumpling?"

"Yes, a cute one," Clayra purred, reaching out to pinch his already reddened cheeks. "Look at those chubby little cheeks. They're practically begging to be squeezed."

Ahmed felt his soul fragment further. His pride shattered into a million pieces, scattering across the floor like broken glass. "No... NO! Stop calling me that!"

But Clayra only laughed, patting his head like one would stroke a loyal pet. "Oh, Ahmed, don't fight it. Embrace your cuteness. It's your greatest weapon."

"My greatest WEAPON?!" Ahmed shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation. "This is not a weapon! This is a curse!"

Clayra shrugged, unfazed by his outrage. "Maybe now you'll learn to appreciate all the love and care I give you. After all, who else would put up with someone as troublesome as you?"

Ahmed wanted to retort, to argue, to prove her wrong. But the words died in his throat. Deep down, he knew she had a point. No matter how much he resisted, Clayra refused to let go. And frankly, despite everything, she kind of reminded him of his own mother back home—strict yet oddly caring.

Still, admitting that aloud would mean losing whatever shreds of masculinity he had left.

Instead, he settled for another dramatic sigh. "I'm done. Just take me to jail. I have nothing left to live for."

Clayra chuckled softly, her laughter echoing through the room. "Jail? My sweet prince, you misunderstand. You're not going anywhere. Not without me."

Ahmed groaned, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. But alas, the universe had other plans.

III. The Ultimate Betrayal: The Maid Joins the Teasing

With Clayra now firmly entrenched in "momma mode," Liza decided it was time to weigh in. Until now, she had remained silent, observing the chaos unfold with clinical detachment. But now, her cool, composed demeanor cracked ever so slightly.

"My lady," Liza began, addressing Clayra with utmost respect, "perhaps we should teach our young master the value of accepting his fate."

Clayra nodded approvingly. "An excellent idea, Liza. Let's start with some basic lessons in etiquette."

Ahmed's eyes widened in horror. "Etiquette? Are you serious?! I'm not taking lessons from either of you!"

Liza's lips twitched, threatening to form the faintest hint of a smile. "Perhaps balancing exercises will suit you better. Or maybe tea ceremony practice?"

"NOOOOOOO!" Ahmed screamed, thrashing in the air like a fish out of water. "I REFUSE TO PARTICIPATE IN ANYTHING SO RIDICULOUS!"

Clayra clapped her hands together, clearly delighted by Ahmed's reaction. "Oh, Liza, look at him squirm! Isn't it adorable?"

"Indeed," Liza replied, her voice devoid of emotion but laced with barely concealed amusement. "He puts up quite the show."

Ahmed stared at them both, utterly dumbfounded. How had he ended up here? Surrounded by two women who seemed determined to strip him of his dignity piece by piece?

"You're enjoying this way too much," Ahmed accused, his voice tinged with betrayal. "Both of you! You're conspiring against me!"

Clayra tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Conspiring? Whatever do you mean, my darling?"

"Don't play dumb!" Ahmed snapped, his struggles intensifying. "You planned this! You and Liza are working together to ruin my life!"

Liza finally released him, setting him gently—but firmly—onto the ground. Ahmed collapsed onto the floor like a deflated balloon, groaning loudly as he lay sprawled out.

"Get up, Ahmed," Clayra commanded, extending a hand. "It's time to face reality."

Reality, Ahmed thought bitterly, was becoming increasingly surreal.

IV. The Unbreakable Fate

Clayra crouched beside him, her grin unwavering. "Well, my dear Ahmed, let's be honest. You can't escape me. I'm your mom now."

Ahmed rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. "...Fine," he whispered, his voice hollow. "Fine. I give up. You win."

Clayra beamed, her satisfaction palpable. "Good boy."

[SYSTEM ALERT: HOST HAS FINALLY ACCEPTED HIS FATE. CONGRATULATIONS.]

[REWARD: 3,000 POINTS.]

Ahmed sat up suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. "...WAIT. IF I ACCEPT MY FATE, I GET POINTS?!"

[SYSTEM ALERT: YES.]

Ahmed paused, his brain processing the implications. Could this be his ticket to revenge? Could he manipulate the system itself by pretending to embrace his role as Clayra's adopted son?

A slow, sinister grin spread across his face. "Hey, Clayra?" he asked sweetly, his tone dripping with false sincerity.

Clayra raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden change in his demeanor. "Yes?"

Ahmed leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her leg in what could only be described as the ultimate act of submission. "Mommy," he cooed, rubbing his cheek against her gown like a cat seeking affection.

Clayra's soul ascended to heaven—or at least, that's how Ahmed perceived her reaction. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. For a moment, she looked genuinely stunned.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face. Not just any smile—a full-blown, ear-to-ear grin that suggested Ahmed had just handed her the keys to eternal happiness.

"Oh, Ahmed..." Clayra breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "My sweet, sweet boy..."

Her arms enveloped him in a crushing hug, squeezing him tighter than any bear trap. Ahmed gasped for air, realizing too late that he had underestimated the power of maternal instinct.

Meanwhile, Liza watched from the sidelines, her expressionless mask finally cracking. For the first time since meeting her, Ahmed saw a flicker of genuine amusement in her eyes. Was she... giggling?

"Is she laughing at me?" Ahmed wondered, mortified. "Of course she is. Everyone is laughing at me."

Even the System chimed in, unable to resist joining the fun.

[SYSTEM ALERT: HOST HAS GAINED 10,000 POINTS FOR MASTER-LEVEL MANIPULATION.]

Ahmed's grin faltered slightly. "Wait... did I just gain points for manipulating Clayra?"

[SYSTEM RESPONSE: CORRECT. YOUR ABILITY TO PLAY ON HER MATERNAL INSTINCTS IMPRESSED EVEN ME.]

Ahmed's mind raced. If he could exploit Clayra's affections for points, then maybe—just maybe—he could turn the tables on the System itself. But first, he needed to survive the impending onslaught of hugs and kisses.

V. The Art of Manipulation

Over the next few days, Ahmed tested his newfound strategy, carefully crafting moments where he could appeal to Clayra's softer side. Whether it was calling her "Mommy" during breakfast or feigning exhaustion after a long day of pranking villagers, Ahmed discovered that playing the role of the helpless child paid off—literally.

Each time he succeeded, the System rewarded him generously. Each failure, however, came with its own set of penalties. Once, when he tried to fake a cold, Clayra insisted on feeding him soup while Liza hovered nearby, ready to administer medicine. Another time, he attempted to cry crocodile tears during their daily lessons, only to earn himself extra homework assignments.

Through trial and error, Ahmed refined his approach. He learned which buttons to press, which tones to use, and most importantly, how far he could push before crossing into dangerous territory. Clayra, though initially skeptical, soon grew accustomed to Ahmed's antics, mistaking them for genuine displays of affection.

One evening, as they sat by the fireplace, Ahmed decided to test his limits once more.

"Mommy," he said softly, his voice trembling with practiced vulnerability, "can we skip tonight's lesson? I'm feeling a bit tired."

Clayra glanced at him, her gaze softening immediately. "Of course, darling. Rest is important. Perhaps tomorrow we'll try again."

[SYSTEM ALERT: +2,000 POINTS FOR EFFECTIVE USE OF EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL.]

Ahmed suppressed a triumphant smirk. Yes, this was working. Slowly but surely, he was turning the tables on the System—and possibly even Clayra herself.

VI. Liza Strikes Back

Not everyone was amused by Ahmed's newfound manipulative skills. While Clayra fell victim to his charm with alarming ease, Liza remained immune to his tricks. In fact, she seemed downright annoyed.

One afternoon, as Ahmed practiced his best "adorable child" routine in front of her, Liza finally snapped.

"Young master," she said calmly, though her tone carried an edge of warning, "if you continue behaving like this, I may be forced to intervene."

Ahmed froze mid-pout, his carefully cultivated image crumbling under her scrutiny. "Intervene? What does that mean?"

Liza didn't respond directly. Instead, she stepped forward, her movements fluid and precise. With a single gesture, she conjured a stack of books taller than Ahmed himself.

"These," she explained, gesturing toward the towering pile, "are for your reading assignment tonight. Consider it punishment for wasting my time."

Ahmed gaped at the books, his stomach sinking. "READING ASSIGNMENTS?! But I thought you liked me!"

"I like efficiency," Liza corrected, her voice clipped. "And right now, you're anything but efficient."

Before Ahmed could protest further, Liza vanished into thin air, leaving him alone with the daunting task ahead. As he stared at the mountain of literature, he realized he might need to rethink his strategy.

VII. Reflections of a Reluctant Son

That night, as Ahmed sat curled up in bed surrounded by half-read books, he reflected on his bizarre new existence. Being Clayra's adopted son wasn't exactly what he had envisioned for himself, but strangely, it wasn't entirely terrible either. Sure, there were moments of sheer humiliation—like being called a dumpling—but there were also glimpses of warmth and belonging.

And then, of course, there was the System. Always watching. Always trolling. Always finding ways to twist his misfortunes into rewards.

"System," Ahmed muttered, staring at the ceiling, "why must you torment me so?"

[SYSTEM ALERT: BECAUSE IT'S FUNNY.]

Ahmed sighed, rubbing his temples. "Funny for you, maybe. For me? It's pure torture."

[SYSTEM RESPONSE: WELL, THEN YOU SHOULD THANK ME. TORTURE NEVER LOOKED SO GOOD ON ANYONE.]

Ahmed groaned, knowing full well the System wasn't bluffing. Thanks to his enhanced cuteness levels, he truly did look like the poster child for adorableness. Even he had to admit it—when he wasn't busy raging about it, anyway.

Still, Ahmed vowed to persevere. If the System wanted to laugh at his expense, fine. But he'd find a way to make it laugh harder—at its own expense.

Epilogue: The Cycle of Madness Continues

Ahmed had unlocked a new path—one filled with manipulation, deception, and yes, occasional doses of genuine affection. Clayra had officially lost to Ahmed's charm, falling hook, line, and sinker for his calculated displays of vulnerability. Liza, however, remained an impenetrable force, her loyalty to Clayra unmatched.

As for the System? It continued to thrive, reveling in Ahmed's struggles while doling out points like candy at Halloween.

And thus, Ahmed's journey into manipulation began. One moment of weakness had spiraled into a grand experiment—a game within a game, where every move carried consequences both hilarious and humbling.

Would Ahmed rise to become the ultimate trickster? Or would the System crush him beneath the weight of its infinite cruelty?

Only time—and many more failed escape attempts—would tell.

End of Chapter